


Prendi, per me sei libero

by Unovis



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Operas, Remix, Season/Series 03, Word Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-22
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2018-02-05 18:32:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1828159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unovis/pseuds/Unovis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No destiny so bitter that it will not change. Lestrade resents Sherlock's final text.<br/>Opera! and all that implies.<br/>A remix of archea2's "Una lagrima furtiva"; both titles and content relating to the opera "L'Elisir d'Amore" (The Love Potion). Both are word challenges.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prendi, per me sei libero

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Una Lagrima Furtiva](https://archiveofourown.org/works/854761) by [archea2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/archea2/pseuds/archea2). 



> The title translates as “Take it--because of me, you are free." See notes at end for more.  
> This is an edited and slightly different version from the original, which appeared in round four of sherlock_remix.

_Prendi, per me sei libero_ – sent minutes, evidently, before he fell. _(Jumped.)_ Sherlock claimed he preferred texting. Lestrade preferred Sherlock’s voice.

Afterward, Lestrade kept the text private, the phone heartbeat-close. He transferred the saved message when he changed mobiles. He admitted the sentimental significance. They’d been connected, however ill-considered, ephemeral, doomed, the attachment. He’d recognized the quote’s source: “L’Elisir d’Amore,” Sherlock’s insistent treat the week before he’d died. He fancied he understood the heartless reference, underscoring Sherlock’s self-demolition, obliterating disgrace, negating prosecution.

The skewed rationale behind the sacrifice, Sherlock’s offering, left Lestrade bitterly unconvinced. No-one sane believed the lies, the roof-ledge “confession.” Unnecessary, Sherlock’s desperate performance. Lestrade’s career survived investigation. Lestrade’s heart, likewise. Eventually.

The week before Sherlock disappeared ( _died! died, the theatrical fucker! He jumped, he fell, he shattered everything_ ) they’d shared one strangely sensual moment under the opera’s spell. Under another false elixer’s spell, more likely, their early dinner’s immoderately imbibed Bordeaux. He’d forgotten the impulsive squeeze, the tear’s true cause. Some memory, some buried emotion revived. Sherlock, moved, bent closer, kissed Lestrade’s wet cheek. Lestrade, shocked, exposed, allowed the intimate caress.

Tasted, seduced, wrecked, then abandoned. Sherlock bolted after the opera, taxied home alone.

Set free, indeed. Egotistical, grandiose nonsense. False, like the tears Sherlock savored. Like Lestrade’s flesh ignited, Lestrade’s desire roused, _Lestrade’s_ offer, long-suppressed, denied.

Years later, the memory rankled, embedded, unforgettable: Sherlock guaranteed.

+++

Insanely, _pace_ Anderson, Sherlock worked the miracle. True believers, nutters, internet scryers, were validated. Lestrade felt twice betrayed.

Resurrected, Sherlock met forgiveness. Lestrade himself, surprised, hugged the reprobate (after he’d been deservedly slugged elsewhere, beaten, even, face bloodied, punched). Accepted, after deception, trickery, lies. After grief, after tears. Game reset. Welcome home.

Relieved, disgusted, Lestrade deleted Sherlock's text.

+++

“You’re annoyed,” accused Sherlock. He sounded aggrieved. “You’ve given me Gregson twice. You’ve ignore...”

“Bother someone else. Dicker’s cases are begging.”

“...ignored me steadily, avoided me since...”

“Leave, then.”

“The wife’s never returning. Open marriages rarely succeed beyond the...”

“Leave me.” He bent over the latest open file. The wife! She’d deserted well before Sherlock’s dive. He’d never liked her, insulted her whenever they met. Like he’d served everyone Lestrade once loved, let inside—Sherlock played games.

“...murder-suicide, imbecilic lovers’ quarrel. You’re woolgathering. Listen!”

“Leave me alone.” Lestrade’s fingers tightened, the knuckles white. Silence. Lengthy silence...Lestrade looked over. Sherlock held Lestrade’s mobile, pickpocketed, checking screens, pressing letters. When Lestrade straightened, Sherlock dropped the phone.

“You’re disappointed.” The grey eyes blazed, the voice rumbled. “Expecting something different, Detective? Promises unfulfilled? Message misconstrued, per...”

“Free me. _Sei libero_ , yes?” Lestrade blurted; accused, asked. Sherlock leaned closer. He felt the heat between them rise. He blinked.

“ _Sempre scontento e mesto_ ,” Sherlock laughed. “Remember the rest! Remember change, after misery.” Closer. Warmer. “Where everyone loves the ransomed lover.” Lestrade’s eyes closed over dampness, cursed senses, betrayed emotion. He felt... Sherlock kissed shadowed eyelids, flushed cheeks. “There were snipers,” Sherlock whispered. Kissed lower, sweeter, saltier. “You’re welcome, Misery.”

 _“Resta!_ ” replied Lestrade, the kissed, the claimed, the currently less annoyed. The mobile beeped, the text restored.

**Author's Note:**

> [The title refers to an aria](http://www.aria-database.com/search.php?individualAria=385) from the opera “L’Elisir d’Amore” (The Elixer of Love). Translated, this first line of the aria is “Take it--because of me, you are free.” The singer is a powerful and rich woman who has been wooed hopelessly by a man. opera opera opera... to save him, she buys his enlistment back from the army and shows him her gift in the aria. But then, she says more.  
>  The original story was a response to a challenge to write a story without using the letter “e” and makes reference to the other famous aria from the opera. As is probably painfully obvious, this remix has the letter "e" in all words. My deepest thanks to Jay Tryfanstone for beta and support, and to Taz in the dreaded last hours of construction.


End file.
